


Find a Center and Hold

by ohmytheon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmytheon/pseuds/ohmytheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catelyn Stark feels a little lost in Stannis Baratheon's camp, but maybe she can help this king avenge her son. Maybe he just needs something to hold onto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She found herself staring into the mirror for what felt like hours, but not seeing her reflection. Her eyes felt hollow, her hair limp, and her mind was distracted, unable to latch onto a singular thought. Though she had not seen any of the battles with her own eyes, she still felt as if she was a battle-worn soldier. _War makes soldiers out of everyone,_ she could not help but think. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but the air felt cold around her and it burned her lungs.

“Lady Catelyn, may I come in?”

Catelyn turned around in her chair and locked eyes with Stannis Baratheon. He stood in the opening of her tent, still as a tree. Though he was a king (or at least he claimed to be), he looked more like a nervous boy. She could see him fighting it, the way he kept her gaze and did not move, but she could also see his fingering the fabric of the tent as he held it open. He was a man grown and yet he still seemed to find it difficult to speak with a woman.

“Of course, Your Grace, it is not so late yet,” Catelyn told him.

Stannis stepped fully into the tent, the flap of the tent closing behind him. She watched his steps, the way he hesitated as he sauntered towards her, how almost timid he seemed. He was a king, not a boy, and yet here he was, _afraid of her_.

 _Men do not know how to deal with a grieving mother,_ Catelyn thought, _not even when those men are kings._

She stood up from her place to meet him, and he immediately froze in his steps, a few feet away from her.

His eyes jerked away from hers. “You do not need to stand for me, my lady.”

“People must stand when in the presence of their king, unless he gives them leave to sit,” she said, her words gentle and almost helpful. She was reminded of all the times she tried to guide Robb, help him in the ways of being a king, and how he would listen when the men were gone but would almost blush as if being scolded in front of his friends when she did so. She was only trying to help, and yet she felt as if she only hurt.

Stannis cleared his throat. “Lord Davos says that you have been talking of Riverrun.”

This time, Catelyn was the one that looked away. “It’s difficult not to yearn for…home – or a home, as it were.” The Lannisters had taken away everything from her, including her childhood home. They’d handed it over to the Freys, like it was theirs to give. Riverrun belonged to Edmure now that their father had passed. _Riverrun is mine to cherish and love._

“I know that King’s Landing is my destination, but I cannot stop myself from thinking of Storm’s End at times,” Stannis admitted, taking one step closer to her. He wasn’t looking at her, but she saw the distant look in his eyes. He was seeing something else, a memory, maybe the Siege. Storm’s End should have been his, she knew, but his older brother had given him Dragonstone instead. “I think of Dragonstone even. Though I loathed the place the entire time I was there, in this desolate cold, I can miss that place.”

This war was breaking him down. She could see it plain as day. Just as it had aged Robb, turning her young son into a hardened man, it was turning Stannis into an old man, worn down by his duties and responsibilities. _No one should shoulder that alone._

Catelyn ended the distance between them, standing right before him, and placed a hand on his cheek. “You will make a new home,” she said quietly.

“Can it be done?” Stannis moved his face, so that her hand fell away from his face. Her touching him had been inappropriate anyways. The moment she had done it, she knew that she had crossed a line, but she had found herself caring little. What did she really have to lose? A long time ago, she had to watch her tongue and be careful of her actions, but now she had nothing holding her back. She was a Tully by blood and a Stark by name, but that meant little these days. She had no one but herself to disgrace and she had done that plenty enough when she’d set the Kingslayer free to save her daughters. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s about as easy as conquering the Seven Kingdoms,” Catelyn replied, almost wryly.

Stannis was quiet for a while, still not looking at her, his eyes and mind distant from her, but when he looked at her, when his eyes caught hers, she saw a fire in them ( _The fire of R’hllor,_ she heard his Red Witch say in her mind), and it caught her off guard. “I promised you that I would avenge your son, and I have not done that yet. I feel as if I have failed you, and I…I loathe myself for that. I do not want to lie to you, as the enemy has.”

“You said it yourself, Your Grace: you have not done it _yet_.” She smiled slightly. “It is not so late.”

Stannis shook his head, mostly to himself. “I knew this would take time. I _know_ how to be patient. The Siege of Storm’s End taught me that well enough. Being Robert’s and Renly’s brother taught me that.” He ran his hand over his mouth, as if trying to wipe away any doubt or frustration that was betraying him. She knew that he was trying to bottle up his emotions or at least trying to hide his thoughts from her, but it was becoming more impossible with each passing day. He’d lost his entire family. He’d lost his home. No one understood him more than Catelyn when it came to that, not even Melisandre. “But I feel…adrift.”

“You must ground yourself,” Catelyn said. When he didn’t respond, she reached out and grabbed his hand, knowing that she was taking a risk. But if he was fighting for himself in this war, then he was fighting for her. She had made her bed in Stannis Baratheon’s camp and she would lie in it; and she knew that he would do the same the moment he had claimed the throne as rightfully his all those years ago. “Find something to hold onto and never let go.”

“Find what?” He sounded so lost, so far away. He must have hid this side of himself from everyone, from Melisandre, from Davos. Stannis worked so desperately to be the king that he believed everyone needed whereas Robb had worked tirelessly to be the king that he had thought everyone wanted. “What can I hold onto?”

“A center, ground, anything to hold onto to remind you of what you are trying to accomplish.”

“You?” With his other hand, Stannis grabbed hold of the hand holding his and they locked eyes. Catelyn felt her breath hitch in her throat. He’d looked her in the eyes before – he’d looked at her just moments ago – but never had he looked at her like this. There was fire and there was anger and there was fear, but there was also… There was something else. It threw her back. “Catelyn.” The way he said her name, the way her name wrapped around his lips, it was enough to make her tremble. He never called her by her first name – he was too proper for that, too _careful_ – but now, in the dead of night, it carried so much. “I can’t…”

She took one more step closer, too close, to the point where their bodies were touching. “I’m here.” And she had been here, for days, for months. Time had passed since Robb’s death, since Edmure’s capture, and she had burned and been furious and angry and hurt and she had wanted so much. She’d taken up with Stannis, knowing full well that the throne was his by rights and he was good and just and she… She had just wanted. And she had never felt so much want as she did now, not for a long time, not since Ned had been alive and warm and lying next to her with the smile that he had only worn for her in private.

“I should leave,” Stannis mumbled, his voice sounding thick and husky. “It’s…it’s late. And we leave on the morrow.”

Catelyn swallowed down whatever was in her mind and nodded her head. “Yes, perhaps–”

Suddenly his lips were pressed against hers and his grip on her hand tightened to the point where he would’ve drawn blood from her skin had he not been wearing gloves. She nearly gasped, but she forced it all down and closed her eyes. How long had it been since she had allowed anyone to be this close to her? (She’d forgotten what it felt like – to taste someone else, to feel the heat of their desire, to just touch another person.) The kiss deepened and he pushed against her, forcing her back and making her bump into her desk. Something fell and rolled off the table. The wood dug into her back, but she didn’t care. She was far too focused on the man pressing against her and kissing her and–

And then it was over.

Stannis pulled away from her roughly. His eyes jerked to her and his mouth opened, as if he meant to say something, but then he looked down and turned away from her, all but running out of her tent. The whole thing left Catelyn feeling quite bewildered. She took in a few deep breaths, having had very little time to breath during the kiss. Her eyes were still wide and her eyebrows were raised. The warmth of his body and lips slowly began to leave her, allowing the cold to seep in where Stannis had once been. Catelyn touched her swollen lips, blinked, and then sat back down in the chair.

The entire thing had only taken a few minutes, but to Catelyn it felt like everything had changed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, someone requested that I write this scene but from Stannis' POV, and I'm behind on requests, but it was one of those ask things, so I felt a bit obligated. It's been ages since I've written something from the book's time and not a modern AU, so excuse this ridiculousness. Stannis is a grump.

Stannis had never been good with women, if he were to be completely frank with himself. That was where Robert held his talents and even Renly to an extent, though he ranged on the opposite end of the spectrum when it came to women as Robert. Of course it made sense that he would fall right in the middle, hopelessly at unease when it came to dealing with the opposite sex.

But Catelyn Stark was not just any woman. She was as highborn as him, having been the Lady of Riverrun after her mother’s passing and then the Lady of Winterfell upon her marriage to Ned Stark. She had been the mother to a king, however much an usurper that young Robb Stark was.

That was in the past now and that was what made things awkward. Riverrun had been given to the Freys, Winterfell to the Boltons - and her son, the so-called King in the North, was dead, along with her other children. Only one of her children remained alive and only in whispers, having disappeared from King’s Landing shortly after the Lannister bastard child’s death. Stannis did not know how to deal with women, but he most certainly did not know how he was supposed to handle a grieving mother and wife.

She’d been in his camp for months, under his army’s protection. He’d talked with her sparsely, but for the most part, he avoided her. There was plenty that he had to do, he reasoned, but deep down he knew it was because he did not know what to say. If he needed her for any reason, he sent Lord Davos to her. His Hand was kinder, gentler, and more hardened in a way that Stannis could not understand. Davos had lost sons while Stannis clung to his daughter’s life with a firm yet almost desperate grip. The other man could understand where she was coming from, and Stannis was loathe to step out of place with her.

He could not avoid her forever though, and so he steeled himself outside her tent, warring with himself on whether or not he should step in. She had good counsel, whenever she offered it, clearly an intelligent woman when it came to politics that seemed to elude the rest of them. Already she had helped smooth things over with some of the other lords. How she could manage to do such a thing when she was probably overwhelmed with emotions at times was beyond him, but it was a strength that he could admire, even if he didn’t understand it.

Which was partly why Stannis could not fathom how he had found himself in this situation, swallowed by the impossibility of what was going on. All he’d meant to do was speak to Lady Stark briefly - to check up on her, in a manner of speaking - and yet he found himself shaken to his core instead as she gazed up at him. How they had managed to find themselves so close to one another was a vague memory.

“You must ground yourself,” Catelyn told him, and he felt himself pull away from her even further. The life of a King was no easy matter, something surely she could understand on some level as she’d watched her oldest son change right before her eyes. When she took his hand, he felt himself snap back to the moment, back to her, and focused on her face. “Find something to hold onto and never let go.”

“Find what?” His eyes were on her face, but he felt his mind drifting again as his thoughts latched onto so many things before him. He wanted to be a good and just King - it was his by right - and yet there were the prophecies that Melisandre spoke of, the lords and ladies bickering beneath him, his army squirming in confusion and anticipation. He felt as if he had a tenuous hold on everything, including his own life. “What can I hold onto?”

“A center, ground, anything to hold onto to remind you of what you are trying to accomplish.” She spoke so firmly, with absolute conviction, that he knew that she had been dealing with the same issues herself. And why would she not? Everything in her life had been taken away from her in a little over a year. All she knew was gone, replaced by some cold reality that she was forced to grapple with on her own on a daily basis. It was simple, really, compared to his bid to secure the thrown and yet so cold and harsh.

And so it only made sense for the next word to tumble out of his mouth, even if he did mean for it to: “You?” His eyes locked onto her eyes and he took her free hand in his. For what felt like the first time in a long time he saw clearly. He saw her clearly, to be precise. Her strength, her willingness to help him in whatever way he asked, her desire to avenge her family. It had nothing to do with her though. It was for the rest of them. She had made her mind up and refused to back down. That was something he could understand. “Catelyn.” It was too much though. He nearly choked on the name. How could she look at him with such knowing? “I can’t…”

A good king - that was what he wanted to be. He needed to protect the kingdom in order to do that, save it from itself, but he also needed to be a good man. He couldn’t be that and do this as well, not in good conscience.

Catelyn did not falter though. “I’m here.” Simple, understanding, forgiving. She would allow him this moment of hidden weakness so that he could find firm ground to stand on again.

Stannis could not do that though. It wasn’t in his nature to ever show weakness, even if it meant breaking a piece of himself off in the process. He’d learned that well enough during the Siege of Storm’s End. “I should leave,” he mumbled, his voice betraying him somehow. “It’s…it’s late. And we leave on the morrow.”

Nodding her head, Catelyn swallowed down whatever words that might’ve been on the tip of her tongue. “Yes, perhaps–”

Truth be told, Stannis could not explain what propelled him to step forward, but he found his lips against hers, kissing her as if it would force him back to reality and pushing against her body with a sort of neediness that he had not thought himself capable of. In his mind, that was where Robert stepped in. But this was not about lust, at least not to him. Catelyn Stark was beautiful, but he did not desire to bed her on the spot. She was strong in her own quiet way, a centering point that he recognized as both necessary and dangerous. 

Right now, it was very much on the latter.

She gasped against him, but kissed him back, perhaps not completely without abandon, but without reservation. It was as if she knew what he needed, even if neither of them could figure out the words.

But it was all too much. He dragged himself away from her, mouth open to form an apology, but when he looked into her eyes, he found that there was nothing he could say. She did not look at him with hate or disgust, just with wide eyes filled with a light that he hadn’t seen in her in the months since she’d come into his camp. He dropped his eyes from her and then stormed out of her tent, his mind a raging storm.

Find something to hold onto and never let it go. Stannis almost laughed mirthlessly. How right Catelyn had been – and how precarious they were indeed.


End file.
